


Sculpted in Fire

by why_wont_you_listen



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Amnesia, Best Friends, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Magic, Male Friendship, Minor Violence, Self-Discovery, dream's the protag but george is with him the entire time, sorry techno apologists i done your man dirty, well its actually not quite amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:34:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28911663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_wont_you_listen/pseuds/why_wont_you_listen
Summary: In the midst of an attempt upon the lives of the L'Manburg president and his son, Dream learns a startling truth about himself and his origins, possibly losing all but his closest friend in the process.
Kudos: 8





	1. Contempt

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty cowards, I'm trying my hand at this whole "actually putting my writing on ao3" thing. I like my deep friendships, so don't worry DNF folks, Dream and George stick together through basically the whole story, so you'll get all the goofy bickering even if they don't kiss. And hey, they totally and deeply love each other, but it's in that platonic way where they'd highkey get married just so they can reap all the legal and economic benefits, and then of course, use it as an excuse to live together.
> 
> For real though, this fic is a lot of worldbuilding and character interaction, and doesn't remotely follow actual DSMP lore. I'm just using DSMP characters and locations. 
> 
> I'd best describe the world as "minecraft but adjusted for reality."
> 
> Don't expect frequent updates; I write real slow and have some pretty extreme executive dysfunction. I promise you, however, that this fic is gon be REEEAL long.
> 
> Oh, one last thing, the whole inspiration for this glob of words happened when I saw one of @teenillustrator on Instagram's Dream designs, so def def DEF go check them out.
> 
> All the visual refs were drawn by me.
> 
> :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duo journeys back to L'Manburg

"Are you really sure about this?"

A frail-looking rope bridge tottered before the two of them.

Dream shrugged, "Of course! I cross this bridge all the time."

"This bridge was made yesterday, Dream."

"Oh." Dream peered into the rapids below. "I guess I was thinking of a different one." He turned back to George. "It's gonna be fine, let's go."

"You're literally so dumb." Despite the attitude, George obediently followed, remaining a few steps behind as they both began their trek. 

"Yeah, if the bridge breaks or something, just aim for the water and not the rocks."

"Wow, you're so helpful." George winced at the groaning planks, trying to step lighter without putting his weight on the equally untrustworthy ropes. "I still don't understand why we couldn't just go around the ravine like we did the first time."

The masked man swiveled to face his friend. "It's simple, really: the big man needed the bridge tested, and we were in the area. Two birds, one stone." 

"Yeah, but why do we have to  _ cross  _ it? Anyone can tell it's unstable just by looking at it!"

"I told you you could take the other way around if you wanted to, you didn't have to come with me." He continued taking light steps upon the pained wood.

"Yeah right, you'd die without me here." George's unease was replaced by a cocky sneer as he spoke those words.

Instantly, Dream swung back around, plates of wood across the bridge crying out as he did so. " _I'd _ die, without  _you_?" A sharp wheeze escaped his lungs. "Okay George."

"Imagine how poetic it would be if this bridge broke right now, and I had to save you." 

"Oh?" Dream unsheathed his axe, and held it near one of the rope foundations. His grip was ever so delicate, the tool threatening doom barely moving as he spoke: "Try me."

George's demeanor broke. "You're not actually serious-"

Dream giggled, "You don't know that..." The axe inched closer.

Panic set in. "No, Dream, Dream, actually stop, DREAM, NO, DREAM-"

Dream was laughing maniacally as he made tiny slices in the already thin twine. It was actually quite difficult with how much George was shaking the bridge. "Stop moving so much, you're going to make me actually cut it."

"OH, AND THAT'S MY FAULT?" He was clinging to the opposing rope, desperate to save himself should his best friend's threat become less playful.

Dream lifted his arms. "Okay, okay." The netherite axe went back in its sheath, "I'm done, I'm done."

George readjusted the goggles perched atop his head. "I hate you so much."

One last wheeze blessed the air, "You're such an idiot."

Once they had (safely) crossed the bridge, the two gazed back to see their good work. 

Dream put his arm around George's shoulders. "Y'know, all-in-all, it wasn't that bad. I mean, it's still standing."

Gently, a wee bird perched upon the foul thing. Right as it did, the bridge tore apart where Dream's blade had kissed it earlier. Both ends succumbed to the prevailing gravity, and collided with the walls of the gorge with a piercing " _THWACK._ "

The boys stared in silence.

"...So we agree that was your fault?"

Dream tried to think up a clever retort. "Oops." Obviously, he failed.

George's cocky smile returned.

~~~~~

The forests surrounding L'Manburg were something out of a painting. Everything's picture perfect; no matter where you turned, the twisting roots covered in lush green moss remained in ideal composition with the trickling streams. Occasional brambles that would normally sully such a sight were covered head to toe in mushrooms of oscillating sizes, adding to the perfection, instead. 

In the middle of all that perfection was a quaint little cabin. It being their shared cabin made it no less strange, but it sure did make it home. It was constructed carefully out of various woods, the different colors resulting in a patchwork design coating the unwieldy structure. What most defined the cabin though was a large mushroom, the color of cookie dough, that grew right through the center, slowly replacing the wood around it with more of itself. George had hung lanterns from it's gargantuan cap, luring a patterning of moths into a frenzy each night.

The entire thing looked ramshackle in the most endearing way possible, like the runner-up in an elementary-school crafts contest. Mom  _ definitely  _ didn't help out with this one.

Their house isn't where they were going this time, though. Instead, they were trekking a mile or so past it, into the city of L'Manburg itself. 

Dream took George's hand to help him over a steep incline, the uncoordinated man almost toppling into tree roots in the process. "Y'know," said George, reminded by the near-miss, "This trip to the jungle was... actually rather uneventful."

"Yeah, last time you broke your leg. Was a real pain dragging you back, I think you still owe me."

A scoff effortlessly grazed George's lips, "'A real pain,' I was the one who BROKE A BONE, Dream. And,  _and_ , Bad kept me in the hospital for THREE. DAYS. I was dying of boredom."

"What? I visited you constantly, I was practically doing standup to keep you from whining about how much pain you were in."

"Only because the pain was preferable to your comedy."

"Oh come now, you laughed plenty."

"Only because of how terrible it was!"

Dream waved his hand dismissively, signaling his dwindling interest in the combative exchange. _Finally_ , George thought to himself, _surrender_.

After this, the two remained silent for a while. The only things filling their ears were the bickering of songbirds and rustling of leaves, tickled by a soft breeze. Neither of them could come close to counting the hours they've spent in these forests together. In fact, every memory Dream had in these woods, he wasn't alone. Those puppy-dog eyes, that elegant voice, the unbridled stupidity... it was always there with him.  _George_ ,  was always there with him.

In the deafening ensemble, the man of the hour spoke: "Have you ever broken a bone?"

The masked man turned, "Hm? No, I haven't."

"Really? Not even as a kid?"

Dream hesitated, hand pressed against a tree. "Uh... no." The air between them held a thin layer of discomfort.

George tried to break it: "Well, definitely wouldn't recommend it. If you were anyone else, I'd chop that up to luck, but I actually don't think I've seen you so much as trip. You sure you're not a gymnast or something?"

"Pretty sure." He moved a spiked branch, careful not to let it grab his lime green hoodie. He'd managed to keep this one in pretty pristine condition so far; only had to patch one hole. Every other tear in the fabric had been easily sewn up by George's (who has always managed to use the correct color of thread despite his colorblindness) delicate hands. Unfortunately for his previous sweater, not even Gogy's needle skills could match the destructive power of a trident.

It had pierced his clothes, dragged him into that chasm, lodged itself in stone...

It's a memory Dream would rather not think about.

Too confusing.

So of course, it forces itself into his brain when he leasts expects it. Trying to fall asleep, only to feel the chill of water filling his lungs again. Only to re-witness the blue getting shades and shades darker while the water rushes past his ears. Only to recall the suspenseful wait for the painful burn of drowning on his screaming lungs. Oh how he waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited.

And nothing.

No pain.

No loss of consciousness.

Just fear.

Labored breathing.

Not even the sting of saltwater visited him in that ditch.

George had told him he couldn't have been down there for more than five minutes, otherwise he surely would have passed out. 

But it felt longer.

So much longer.

Maybe eight... ten minutes? 

_But that's silly_ ,  he tells himself—

_ No human could survive that long. _

And Dream, well...

Dream was definitely human.


	2. Idiocy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and George enter L'Manburg, to the distress of a few people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah wow, another chapter. Don't get too clingy or anything, Dream will probably stream five whole times before I update again. Motivation is ass, homework sucks, y'all get the gist.
> 
> Anyway, stream Joy Rides by MUTEMATH.

Imagine, if you will, an archway; maybe something roman in construction. Now imagine it's 12 feet tall, draped in vines, and bolstering a magnificent glow. Congratulations, dear reader, you've just seen the gates to the raucous city of L'Manburg, the very gates our two heroes were passing through just now.

The prime path birthed countless tributaries that led to diverse collections of buildings. There were no districts; residential houses and more purpose-oriented establishments were mixed together without rhyme or reason. The most obvious constant was the large castle-like capital building, where the prime path ultimately led. 

It was midday, so the city was bustling full of life. Dream and George would pass the occasional person that greeted them, but most were hard at work, and paid little mind to their presence.

Dream called out one resident in particular: human, dark hair, navy blue clothes, short. Yellow feathers peeked angrily from his sleeves, as though they were forcing themselves to remain seen. "Hey Quackity, looking good! How's the farm?"

The man, dressed in a bloody apron, sighed before lazily responding. "My name's Alex, asshole."

George cupped his hands around his mouth, "No one asked!"

_That_ had crossed a line. Quackity side-eyed the two of them, "Alright, that's it, I think I'm actually going to murder you, George." 

George didn't see any issues with this retort, until the man in the beanie brandished a butcher's knife, and started making a beeline straight towards him. His giggling melted into abject fear. "Wait, he's serious, DREAM-"

Dream could barely hold himself together, "George," he attempted to say mid-wheeze, "what is WRONG with you?"

"I DON'T KNOW, JUST GET HIM OFF ME!"

It was truly a glorious sight, watching two feral adults engage in a tiny game of manhunt. Most of it was George frantically apologizing, and every so often, Quackity would squeal "Come 'ere, Georgie, I'm going to stahb you!" while stray feathers trailed behind him. Dream knew he _should_ help, but this was just so fun to watch, and he'd toppled over anyway from the laughter bubbling at his throat.

At one point, Quackity got stuck in a bush, and George had the leeway to convince his friend to save his greatly unprepared ass. "What are you doing Dream? Help me! He's going to actually _hurt_ me with that thing!"

"So?" said Dream, twinges of giggles still creeping past his lips, "Just eat a gapple."

"Are you insane? I only have two, I'm not wasting one on Mr. Duck Arms!"

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT, BRIT-SPIT!" came screaming from a bush.

George's eyes widened, "Oh no, Dream, I've angered him, please." 

"George, he's coming, you better run!"

"GOD! You're no help!" George pulled out his diamond sword, and swung around just in time to see Alex Quackity removing his shirt.

Dream was cackling like a hyena in a live studio audience. "You're in for it now, Georgie."

By this point, most of the surrounding people had been watching the stupidity unfold, so it was no surprise when the three guardsmen finally showed up, right as Dream's ribs were starting to ache.

"Alright idiots, break it up." It was a baritone voice, akin to the sound of a scratching record. No surprise, it originated from Technoblade, the head of the city guard. He was a pigkin, and seemed as though he could kill a man with his gaze if he wanted to. His blood-red cape thrashed in the wind as he stood between the two quarreling humans.

While George backed down immediately, Quackity converged on the battle-scarred pig with all the misplaced confidence in the world. He spouted complaints in a different language, and weakly punched Techno's arm, while the hog rolled his sunken eyes.

One of the other two guards, a textured green man with four legs and dressed in gold armor, spoke up. "Do you want us to make a report of the incident, boss?" This was Sam, L'Manburg's resident creepkin.

The other guard responded. "I mean, this has to be the fiftieth time this exact thing has happened, how many copies of the same report do we really need?" This one was a foxkin, with a loose black jacket and the cutest little hat resting atop his fuzzy head.

"Last time I checked, you weren't the boss, Fundy." Techno effortlessly caught a strike Quackity attempted to make with his butcher's knife, and amber feathers flew through the air. "File a report, if for nothing else than the history books. Might make a fun fact in the future."

"Fun fact," Dream chortled, "Alex Quackity attempted to maim George one-hundred-and-fifty-two times!"

"Fun fact," Techno responded, "Dream, masked merc and general menace, was involved more than half the time." He dangled Quackity's knife high above him, teasingly. "It is still unknown why Technoblade never arrested him."

Fundy approached Dream with a pad of paper in hand, "So how 'bout it, blondie, did you take part in this one?"

"What? No, we're just trying to get to Wilbur's shop." He pointed a thumb to his backpack, "Got a delivery for him." 

The fox's nose twitched, "Okay, but you can enter L'Manburg without, like, starting shit. You two are worse than Tommy."

"And when Sapnap gets involved..." Sam added, idly.

The second that name was mentioned, Fundy's ears perked up, and his fur stood on end. He whipped around, "Nonono, Sam-"

Immediately, there was a high-pitched ring that ended in the sudden appearance of high mage Sapnap. He was gleefully disheveled: face unevenly shaven, headband barely doing its job, feet unapologetically shoeless. Bits of his clothes seemed to be fighting the urge to light on fire, which, honestly, could be said about that man every second he was awake. "Someone say my name?"

"SAM, YOU IDIOT!" Fundy yelled. Sam could only respond with a quick "oops."

"Heh, if I had a dime for every time I heard _that_ , I wouldn't have to keep whoring myself to your mom."

"Don't have one of those," Dream responded, a smile hidden on his face.

"I know, come here ya' big idiot." 

The two shared a long hug, which served to remind Dream of his friend's both unending warmth and odor. 

"Jesus man, shower." They released from each other.

Sapnap's hand brushed through the air. "Pssh, later. Where's your boyfriend?"

"Not my boyfriend," Dream answered. Nonetheless, he pointed to the dwindling commotion behind him: "He's getting scolded alongside Alex."

Indeed, the pigkin was talking down to the two humans like poorly behaved dogs. Dream and Sapnap watched just in time to see Quackity slap George's ass, which led to a very flustered George knocking him over and strangling him, to the severe chagrin of a very tired Technoblade.

Sapnap whistled. "Wow, you teach him that one?"

Dream yawned, "Maybe."

Once they evaded further reprimanding, the three of them (Sapnap refused to leave) returned to their little sidequest. Wilbur's General Store (formerly the Mule Bits Shop) was only a bit further up the path anyway. 

They talked, reminisced, caught up. Every once and awhile, Sapnap would kick a small stone and suspend it in midair with a snap of his fingers. Sometimes he launched them at George, who pretended not to notice for as long as he could.

"Could you stop that, maybe?" He snapped, after what must've been the thirtieth rock to the shin.

Sapnap beamed, "Anything for you, Gogster!" Immediately, he launched a thirty-first stone at the poor Brit.

An impassively spoken "You're literally the worst" accompanied a masterful deadpan.

Sapnap, realizing he'd milked all possible comedy from the rock thing, hovered above the ground with a twirl of his fingers, and positioned himself in front of Dream. "Yeesh, what's the matter with _him_ , right?" Even floating as he was, he couldn't quite reach eye-level with his friend.

"What? No, we love George!" Dream responded cheerfully. He turned around for a moment, "Even with his adorable pouting."

"I'm not going to kiss you, Dream."

"Damn. Worth a try." He faced back, but focusing on the road ahead was much more difficult with a fully-grown manchild hovering in front of him. 

A resonant " _DONK_ " filled both of Dream's ears, and appeared to have come from Sapnap giving his mask a good flick. "You ever take that thing off, Dream?"

Before he could say anything, George was at his defense: "What? Sapnap, that's so rude, why would you ask that?" Warmth rushed to Dream's face, either from embarrassment, or that weird feeling he gets every time the roles are reversed, and George is the one defending _him_.

"Come on, you two literally sleep in the same house; you can't tell me you haven't seen his face before."

George shrugged, "Not really. Parts of it, I guess. See his mouth all the time when he eats." Nervously, he ran his hands through his hair. "I mean, he only ever takes his mask off at night, and he always wakes up before me, and this is just a really touchy subject for him, so maybe we should stop talking about it?"

Admittedly, the topic of his face did upset him. He didn't like looking at it, and he sure as hell didn't want other people looking at it either. It really was convenient that he even had this mask. But then again, was convenience really all that was at play? He pondered upon this all the time: He was wearing it when he was first found, he literally didn't have a memory without it at least nearby, and he doesn't remember receiving it or making it. Maybe he did at some point? Who knows! Dream certainly didn't!  
  
To be fair, he didn't remember _any_ of his childhood.

But he wasn't about to go around telling everybody that: it's considered strange, to remember nothing before early adulthood. He knew that intuitively. Everyone else remembered theirs, and often pointed to it as a time of learning, shaping them into who they were today. It was really off-putting, being as skilled as Dream was at almost everything, and having no memory of learning any of it.

A hearty " _CLANG_ " pulled him from his spiral. Not facing forward, Sapnap had unintentionally collided with a lamppost. He could hear George stifle a snort behind him.

"Uncomfortable shmuncomfortable, we're your best friends, man, you can trust us. There's no way you're _that_ ugly-looking, right?"

"Actually, this mask is for your protection: I'm actually a gorgon, my gaze would turn you to stone without it. How thoughtful of me! You should be kissing my boots saying 'oh, thank you Dream! What a sacrifice you've made!'"

A scoff pushed through Sapnap's smile, "Okay, Medudesa."

George, meanwhile, leaned towards Dream's ear, "Wait, is that actually true?" It was a hushed tone that, unfortunately, was loud enough for all three of them to hear.

"WHAT? GEORGE!" Dream shoved him, "You're actually so dumb."

Sapnap, who'd started belly laughing the second he heard George's question, stood himself back on the ground just so he could keel over. "I can't believe you actually believed that," he coughed out, once regaining his composure.

George threw his hands to the air, "Idunno! I mean, there has to be _some_ reason. Maybe he _can_ turn people to stone, stop laughing at me!"

Dream shook his head, fumbling out a quick wheeze to cover the dread rolling around in his brain. _Yeah George_ , he thought to himself, _there sure is a reason_.

He perked up just in time to see good-ol'-Gogy hurl a pebble at Sapnap, completely missing.

And he smiled.

_Maybe someday_.


End file.
